


artist peter parker!!

by imabitchig



Series: artist peter parker because i can [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Artist Peter Parker, IronDad and SpiderSon, Twitter, because i love them, but i might turn this into something soo, not rrally sure what i was doing lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-28 21:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21398968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imabitchig/pseuds/imabitchig
Summary: Peter hasn't painted or drawn since before he became spiderman, which is really unfortunate because now he can get to places with amazing views, and really it would be a crime to not capture the beauty, right?Basically, what happenes when Mr. Stark finds out that Peter is an artist. Thinking I might turn this into a full fledged fic?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: artist peter parker because i can [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1542889
Comments: 33
Kudos: 909





	artist peter parker!!

**Author's Note:**

> i might end up turning this into a twitter fic, so definitely let me know if thats something you would read :)

Peter had always appreciated art. There was a certain sense of beauty and emotion and passion in art that you just didn't get anywhere else, and he thought that was pretty cool. He admired the patience and skill that went into the making of art and he thought that anyone with that much talent had to be blessed with those gifts from god or something because otherwise it just didn't make sense- which is why he never thought that he'd be an artist. 

When he was younger, he was always drawing. He'd had an old worn sketchbook that he'd brought with him everywhere, and there were pictures covering every inch of his walls. He'd never really thought he was very good at art, but it was fun and it made him happy, so he kept drawing in his sketchbook and doodling in the margins of his school work. When he started high school, he took the only art class they offered at Midtown Tech, which was for some reason named Art I, even though there was only one class. There he'd learned the basics of composition and the elements of design, and in that year, his art had really improved. He wouldn't call himself an expert or anything, but some of the time he didn't hate everything he made, and occasionally (read: very rarely) he actually like one of his pieces.

When he became spiderman though and started interning under Mr. Stark for real, Peter hadn't had the time or the motivation for art. His old sketchbooks had been tucked away on his bookshelf, and he wasn't even quite sure where his paints had ended up. But now, sat on the ledge of some random skyscraper, Peter regretted that fact.

It was still early in the evening, but the sun was already starting to lower in the sky, and the way the resulting pinks and yellows and blues reflected on the windows of the buildings in front of him was just beautiful. He wished he could sit in this moment forever and see the last rays of sun catch on the glass a million times over. He wished there was some way he could capture this moment and look back on it whenever he wanted.

He sat for a minute, debating with himself. Then, figuring he was only going to live once, and that he needed to take advantage of every opportunity he was presented with, he jumped off the roof and swung a few blocks away to where his favorite little craft shop resided.

Walking in, he took in the welcome scent of vanilla and sight of the rows and rows of art supplies. There was no one in the shop except for the cashier, a lovely little old lady, who'd owned the place for as long as he could remember, Ms. Wilma. She seemed slightly surprised, but smiled and welcomed him in nonetheless. Having spiderman in your store would never be a bad thing, after all. 

Peter waved to her and then walked over to grab a cheap set of drawing pencils and a small sketchbook, because he only had a twenty dollar bill on him. When he pulled the crumpled thing out of his pocket to give to Ms. Wilma, she only smiled and flattened it out.

"You taking up drawing, young man?"

"Uh, yeah," he chuckled, accepting the bag.

"Well good luck, lord knows you need a calming hobby!" she joked.

Peter smiled, "Yeah, I guess I do."

By the time he made it back to his skyscraper, the light and colors had already faded, so he moved to a lower roof near a streetlight and drew a picture of the street there. The drawing was messy and rough, and he definitely remembered why he'd preferred paint over pencils, but it was unique and beautiful in its own way. Plus, it had definitely calmed him down, just like Ms. Wilma had said. Maybe picking art back up as a hobby wasn't such a bad idea?

The next couple of nights had been far too busy to sit down and draw something while on patrol, so on Friday, right when he got out of school, he ran down to the craft store, this time with his wallet, and picked up a small, portable, watercolor palette and a pad of nice watercolor paper. They both promptly got stuffed into his backpack, because Fridays were interning days, and he had already made himself late, but now he had them, and could actually use them when he had the time. 

Sunday morning, he set his alarm a few hours early so that he could catch the sunrise from his favorite skyscraper. He dumped his backpack upside down over his bed to empty it of all his school stuff and then gently packed it with all of the things he'd need to paint. Then, he put on his suit and a hoodie over top (because it was fucking freezing in the mornings), and jumped out the window. 

It was still dark out when he arrived so he took his time to set up his stuff and started sketching some general outlines of the buildings. When the sun finally showed up, he started painting and he didn't stop painting until a few hours later, when the painting was finished. 

It turned out fucking amazing. Peter didn't think he'd ever been so proud of any painting he'd ever made before. It truly captured the beauty of the moment exactly as he hoped it would, with perfect colors and amazing detail. 

That amazing success was what really drew him back into art. It gave him the motivation and confidence he needed to keep going. He went a few weeks like that, getting up early, or staying out later to paint from different perspectives in the city. Ms. Wilma had gotten used to Spiderman coming into her shop to buy art supplies (thank god Mr. Stark started paying him for the internship), and with his approval she set up a little box where people could write notes to him. It was a pretty good situation. 

As a result of his new adventure in art, Peter was happier, his anxiety was getting better, he was more confident in himself, and he was more inspired and motivated for every part of his life. Of course it was only a matter of time before something happened.

Said something occurred late one Thursday night. Peter had been up on his favorite skyscraper to paint (which at this point had become a very common hangout for him, with pillows and blankets, a whole set-up for his art supplies, and even christmas lights strung across the ceiling of the overhang), and he was just putting the finishing touches on a dark cityscape painting when he heard the familiar sound of Ironman approaching.

When Mr. Stark stepped out of the suit he looked more confused than angry, so Peter assumed whatever he'd done must not have been so bad and went back to painting with only a lighthearted, "Hey Mr. Stark!"

"Uh, hey kid. What's going on? Friday said you'd been in one place for multiple hours so I kind of just assumed you'd been injured or something," he explained, abandoning the empty suit to settle down on the pile of blankets next to Peter.

"Oh I'm alright, just painting," Peter said.

"Yeah, I can see that squirt. I didn't know you were fucking Picasso?"

Peter laughed, "Mr. Stark have you ever even seen a Picasso painting? His style was waaay different than mine."

"Hey I'm an expert in science and technology, this is way out of my field of genius," Mr. Stark laughed, "but really, how come I didn't know you were some master painter?"

"Because I'm not. This is just a hobby Mr. Stark," Peter said, starting to clean up all his supplies.

For some reason Mr. Stark looked personally affronted. 

"Just a hobby my ass! You've literally just spent multiple hours sitting here to paint and by looking at that I can tell you've spent years doing this."

Peter blushed faintly, "I'm not even that good Mr. Stark, it's just fun."

"Yeah we'll see about that," stated Mr. Stark. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

"Now, it's way past your bedtime. Swing on home kid, I'll pack all this up for you."

"Uh, are you su-"

"Yep, go on."

Well. Peter grabbed his gloves and mask and tugged them back on, and then jumped off the side of the building with one last glance towards Mr. Stark. What was he up to?

The next morning, Peter figured out exactly what Mr. Stark had been up to, when he received a text from Ned urgently telling him to check twitter.

-

Tony Stark ✅ @iamironman  
Is my intern talented or is he talented?  
[pic-Peter's painting]  
957 comments 4.9k retweets 70.9k likes

Oh my god. There were thousands of responses to the tweet. Most of them were mostly just shocked that Tony Stark had an intern and seemed to care about him, but the few that talked about his painting were all fairly good. Wow. Peter had never even thought about posting pictures of his art online. Maybe he should?

**Author's Note:**

> so like i said at the beginning, im thinking of maybe turning this into a twitter fic? what do you think? I dont want to put all that effort into it if nobody would even read it lmao. just give me some feedback if you dont mind! :)
> 
> edit: i guess i am making this into a twitter fic! you guys are literally so nice, i love you all ♡


End file.
